


The Beat and the Lust it Commands

by blxckcoffee



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Anal Sex, Frerard, M/M, Minor Mikey Way/Pete Wentz, Sexual Content, Stripper!Frank
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2018-01-20 11:39:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1509128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blxckcoffee/pseuds/blxckcoffee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What is it this time, Pete?” Gerard grumbles, trying to run a hand through his dishevelled hair, his fingers getting caught in the tangles painfully. He gives up and sits up, hunching over himself and awaiting Pete's answer.<br/>“You're coming with me to Gabe's club,” Pete sounds extremely pleased with himself and Gerard pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance.<br/>“You mean his strip club,” Gerard shakes his head.<br/>Pete giggles (giggles—how the hell can his brother ever get used to that?), “yes, Gerard, his gay strip club. Don't knock it till you've tried it, and I think you'll like what Gabe has planned for tonight.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Beat and the Lust it Commands

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fanfiction I've posted and one of the first ones I've written. so, please be nice--but, constructive criticism is always welcome. Enjoy! (I also have a sequel that I started working on and would be delighted to post if this gets positive feedback c: )

“Hello?” Gerard mumbles into his phone, voice foggy with sleep and a bitter taste in his mouth from the booze he drank a couple hours earlier.

            “Drinking in the afternoon all on your lonesome again, huh, Gee?” Pete replies, the smirk showing through his voice.

            “What the fuck do you want, Wentz?” Gerard snaps, but the venom is missing from his voice. Fuck, he's just _tired_ , goddamn it.

            “Cruel words, Way, I'm wounded,” Pete whimpers, mocking him, Gerard's sure.

            “What is it this time, Pete?” Gerard grumbles, trying to run a hand through his dishevelled hair, his fingers getting caught in the tangles painfully. He gives up and sits up, hunching over himself and awaiting Pete's answer.

            “You're coming with me to Gabe's club,” Pete sounds extremely pleased with himself and Gerard pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

            “You mean his _strip club_ ,” Gerard shakes his head.

            Pete giggles ( _giggles_ —how the hell can his brother ever get used to that?), “yes, Gerard, his gay strip club. Don't knock it till you've tried it, and I think you'll like what Gabe has planned for tonight.”

            Gerard huffs, “look, I know you're convinced I need to get out more,” _you tell me every fucking time you see me,_ he wants to add, “but I'm perfectly fine right where I am.” Gerard doesn't have time to be going out anymore, he's going to _art school_ now; he needs to focus on important things (like that art history essay due in two weeks, fuck)—or so he keeps telling Mikey and his pocket-sized boyfriend.

            “Shut the fuck up, Gee,” Pete says fondly, “get your ass out of bed and make yourself up. I'm waiting outside, and if you aren't done by the time these next three songs are over, I'm coming in.” and the line goes dead.

            Gerard sighs long-sufferingly and hauls his tired ass out of bed. He convinces himself that, fuck yeah, he can shower in five minutes; that would leave plenty of time to find something decent and _clean_ to wear, for Christ’s sake. What Gerard doesn't expect, although he should have foreseen it, is for it to be so damn hard to wash out a week’s worth of hair grease and scrub himself down to the point of _dear god, is that a layer of skin coming off?_ By the time he steps out of the shower, his hair askew and dripping, it's been ten minutes and he can hear Pete stomping down the basement stairs. Surely, Gerard swears, the universe is out to get him and is doing so by sicking an eyeliner-wielding Pete Wentz on him. When Pete lays eyes on him, he clicks his tongue in an annoyingly chastising way and shoves Gerard back into the bathroom to have his way with him. When Pete's done with him, his hair is still a mess, but in more of a meticulously tousled way (“it's called natural beauty, Gerard, you just gotta know how to wield it,” Pete insists) and his eyeliner is smoked out in a way that makes his hazel eyes pop without being too harsh.

            The next issue is Gerard's wardrobe. Pete grumbles in disapproval as he sifts through one of Gerard's piles of clothes (dirty or clean, Gerard has no idea). “You know,” Pete bitches, throwing back the third Star Wars t-shirt he comes across, “for a gay man, this is a little embarrassing.”

            “Being gay doesn't automatically warrant good fashion sense, Pete,” Gerard mutters, crossing his arms over his bare chest self-consciously and shifting his weight from one leg to the other, trying to get used to the rough, snug feeling of jeans after going so long wearing his pajamas all day.

            “Evidently,” Pete quips, making a satisfied noise when he pulls a black shirt from amongst the pile, that Gerard was sure was lost forever. Pete throws it at him and Gerard immediately pulls it over his head and smoothes it across his torso. He stares down at the Black Flag logo on the front, having a moment of reunion with his beloved shirt, when Pete grabs him by the wrist and drags him upstairs and out the front door, with barely enough time to grab his wallet and leather jacket in between.

* * *

Gerard has a vice grip on his beer as he looks around the club apprehensively, seeing way too many flamboyant, sparkly, loud gay guys. Gerard is very modest in the aspect of his sexuality; the complete opposite of his art because it's the only way he can really express himself. The music is loud enough to give him a headache and the lights sweep across the dimly lit club in streaks of pink, blue and green. Being in this place is a shock and Gerard finds himself glaring at many of the guys that pass the table Pete claimed before he abandoned Gerard here with nothing but his drink to comfort him (seriously, some friend).

          Just as this thought flits away, Pete plops into one of the chairs, Mikey claiming the one beside him. “Hey, Gee,” Mikey grins.

            Gerard glares at him in a way that says _I know you had something to do with this_. Pete leans over the table to say over the music, “loosen up, Gee, the show's about to start!” He doesn't belong in this place, he wants to tell Pete (and is pretty intent on saying it), a socially awkward, basement-dwelling, introverted art student doesn't belong in a place like this—especially not at the table that has a front and centre view of the round platform at the end of the cat walk stretching out from the main stage with the stripper pole sticking out and reaching towards the ceiling, the bright lights flashing across the silver finish.

            He _plans_ to lean back over the table and tell Pete that he's leaving and make a diva-like exit to the nearest bus stop—Pete's white and rusty Neon be damned. However, his statement is lost as Gabe's voice comes through the speakers, aborting his sentence. “We've got something special for you tonight,” he leers into a microphone from behind the DJ's table across the club, a smug grin lighting up his sharp features. “We've acquired some new merchandise and they get their big debuts tonight,” there are scattered cheers from the club and it sounds sleazy, to Gerard, when he realizes Gabe's talking about some new strippers they've hired. Gerard raises an eyebrow in Gabe's direction though he doesn't think he can see it. “The first one's a pretty little thing—I think you guys'll like him. Not a sight for sore eyes, my friends. You can call him whatever you want, but we like to call him Frankie.”

            The white spotlights lining down the catwalk shift to a soft lilac colour as a slow steady beat starts up and the sparkling blue curtains are gradually pulled to the side. Frankie looks up from the floor, his eyes sparkling in the lights and he starts making his way slowly down the catwalk. He has dark hair that's just the right length to curl around his neck and flop messily into his face, a silver lip piercing gleaming as his lips curve into a smirk. His midnight blue short shorts glitter as he saunters forward and his loose black sleeveless top doesn't cover much. His hips move fluidly from side to side as he goes passed each purple spotlight, dragging his hand across his chest or up his waist. Gerard finds himself leaning forward, entranced by Frankie's movements.

            When he reaches the silver pole, he takes hold of it, swinging around once, as if testing its hold and reminding himself how he's supposed to use it. He hooks one slender leg around it, jumping up and spiraling down towards the floor expertly, landing in a kneeling position. Frankie slowly stands up, dragging his ass along the pole, pushing back into it and letting his mouth fall open slightly. The musical beat holds steady as he dances around and with the pole, gyrating his hips and displaying his ass perfectly in the shorts. Frankie curves backwards as he stands, going further until he's in a perfect back bend and his head is almost touching the floor. Gerard's mouth falls open and he tries to inconspicuously adjust his crotch because his dick has seemed to take interest in the scene before him. Frankie drops his hands and he's in a bridge position before flipping backwards out of the backbend and landing into a kneeling position again. Once he's on his hands and knees, he starts crawling towards the end of the platform. His eyes are dark and sexy and his back is arched with his ass pushing up into the air tantalizingly. He crawls around so his ass is facing the crowd and he sways it back and forth as he crawls, like he's begging for the perfect round cheeks to be pulled apart and fucked into.

            It's when this thought passes through Gerard's lust muddled brain that Frankie smoothes upright until he's standing again. He begins his slow walk back to the main stage, his waist curving gorgeously with every step back through the lilac spot lights. Frankie turns to face the crowd as he approaches the curtain, blowing a cocky kiss as the curtains are pulled together and his lithe body disappears behind the sparkles.

            Gerard stares up at the stage after Frankie's disappeared behind the curtain, mouth slightly ajar and in awe. The lights shift colour again, from the soft purple of Frankie's performance, to an electric teal as Gabe announces the next debut performance of a duo, Ryan and Brendon. It's when the two guys—both rather tall, rather slender and rather pretty—come on that Mikey leans across the glass-top table with a smug expression (the asshole). “Hey, Gee,” he calls over the pulsing dance music that plays as the duo start grinding against each other, “maybe you should go out for a smoke, you look a little tense,” his little brother slides a pack of Marlboro’s across the table, past the glass of vodka that Gerard hadn't even noticed had been served. It's not until Mikey says this that Gerard notices how tightly he's holding the beer in his hand, he immediately snaps his mouth shut and narrows his eyes at Mikey suspiciously. He never offers Gerard free cigarettes (“what do I look like, Gee, a charity to your nicotine addiction?”) but, hell, like Gerard will pass up the offer—especially since he left his pack at home. Mikey sits back in his seat as Gerard picks up the pack and begins to stand up. Pete immediately slides into Mikey's lap; Gerard shakes his head working out why Mikey wanted Gerard to get up from the table.

            Gerard's making his way through the mass of bodies, and booze, and moisture of sweat and lust, to get to the front door when a hand clamps down on his shoulder. Gerard flinches and spins around, seeing Gabe Saporta's smiling face there, hovering a couple inches above his. “Gerard!” he exclaims, pulling Gerard into a tight, Gabe-like hug, “so, Pete got you out of the basement, huh?”

            Gerard scratches the back of his neck and laughs, “yeah, I guess.”

            “Where're you off to?” he wonders.

            “Just out for a smoke,” Gerard replies holding up Mikey's pack of smokes.

            “Oh, why don't you just use the staff exit,” Gabe says, already dragging Gerard back into the club and making his way to the DJ table, by his wrist. He looks back at Gerard, “you're looking really good tonight, Gee,” Gabe grins at him.

            “Yeah, well, Pete got to me,” Gerard smiles back sheepishly. Gabe nods and chuckles in understanding as they approach the door that reads “staff only”. Behind the door is a white hall, with three more doors and a metal double door exit at the end of it. Gabe opens one marked “dressing room” sticking his face in; Gerard gets a glimpse of four or so guys, all dressed in different arrays of revealing clothing, and tables with huge mirrors, makeup and a few boas. “William, _cariño_ , you're on in ten,” Gabe calls in at the tall dude with long messy brown hair, adding in a flirtatious wink, “these guys need a little breather after Ryan and Brendon's performance—good job you two!” Gerard sees the duo from the stage wave with little “thank you”s and Gabe closes the door. Gabe continues down the hall to the exit and opens it for Gerard, outside it's an alley way blocked off by a locked gate. Gerard decides it's a lot better than standing outside the club with all the other guys that come to this club, most looking for a quick fuck. “Thanks, Gabe,” Gerard grins at Gabe.

            Gabe smirks back at him slowly, “no problem, Gee, see you later.” and then he walks back into the club. Gerard leans against the brick wall and breathes out in relief; he can still see Frankie's hips swaying and his mouth falling open as he danced, with the silver lip ring sparkling in the spotlight. Gerard reigns himself in because, not cool, no getting hard in the alleyway with a pack of free smokes waiting for you. He pulls one out, lights it and takes a good, long drag off it, watching the cherry flare and releasing the smoke into the air french-style. It loosens up his muscles and Gerard rolls his head around once, before going back for another inhale. It's when he's smoke half of the cigarette that the door beside him opens and someone walks out. Gerard doesn't look—doesn't even glance—just continues smoking in what's left of the peace in the air.

            A voice breaks the silence, “hey, dude, you got a light?” forcing Gerard to look down at whomever it is that interrupted his nicotine-induced meditation. Gerard's eyes go wide as he sees the guy from the stage: Frankie, looking up at him hopefully.

            “Uh,” Gerard says intelligently, then hastily collects himself, fumbling for his lighter and pushing it into Frankie's hand. “Here.”

            “Thanks,” he flashes a quick smile that makes Gerard's gaze stray to his mouth and the lip ring. He's not wearing his stage outfit anymore, just a pair of snug jeans and a red and black striped t-shirt with a worn black hoodie over top. Frankie's eyeliner is smudged slightly on the corners of his eyes and his eyes flutter shut as he takes the first drag of his cigarette, and Gerard has to look away at this point. Gerard taps on his cigarette and watches the ashes from the end float down onto the pavement at his feet. “Hey, you're Gerard, aren't you?” Frankie's looking up at Gerard again with those big eyes, and in the light that's hanging from the brick wall Gerard can make out a few light brown and green hues mixed together in his irises.

            “Oh, yeah, that would be me,” Gerard stares back, stunned, “but, uh, how did you know that?”

            Frankie giggles under his breath (okay, now Gerard can see how Mikey could get used to it), “I know Pete, he got me the job here.”

            Gerard's eyebrows shoot upwards, “oh, really?” Which it isn't really a surprise, Pete knows _everybody_ , and is definitely a meddler.

            “Yeah, and knowing Pete, I inevitably met Mikey,” Frankie takes a break to smoke again, “and knowing Mikey, I inevitably heard _a lot_ about you.” Gerard blinks at the short guy in front of him (seriously, if Gerard didn't need _another_ reason to think that this guy was prettiest guy he's ever seen) and flicks away the filter of his cigarette.

            “Should I be worried?” Gerard wonders lightly, laughing a little at the end of the question. _Just play it cool, Gerard, try and manage not to look like an awkward tool for once._

“Nah,” Frankie smiles, “all good things.”

            “Whew, that's a relief,” Gerard breathes, wiping a hand across his forehead dramatically for effect. Frankie giggles again and, it's official, it's the cutest thing Gerard's ever heard in his entire existence. “But I've never heard about you.” Gerard looks down at Frankie, who's crushing the butt of his smoke under the heel of his shoe and shaking a hand through his dark hair.

            “That does not surprise me,” Frankie says, looking up at Gerard with a mischievous smile that, Gerard has to admit, is a little intimidating. Frankie only sticks out his hand to shake and introduces himself, “hi, I'm Frank Iero and I'm a stripper, nice to meet you.”

            Gerard laughs, one of his loud honking ones that he tries to refrain from using unless it's in front of Mikey. He smothers it in his hand, to the best of his abilities, and holds out the other one to shake Frank's waiting hand, “hi, I'm Gerard Way and I still live in my mother's basement, it's a pleasure to meet you too.” Frank laughs out loud, the sound bubbling in his mouth and making Gerard want to hear it over and over again. When Frank's done laughing he looks up a Gerard again, his eyes assessing and a lewd glint behind them. It makes Gerard's heart beat stutter and his breath catch.

            “So, Pete and Mikey are convinced that _someone_ needs to loosen up,” Frank tells Gerard and he wonders how the atmosphere could change so quickly, one second joking and the next making it hard for Gerard to catch his breath under Frank's stare.

            “Yeah, they tell me all the time,” Gerard replies, going for casual and probably failing epically. He can't help it, especially when Frank takes a few steps closer to Gerard.

            “They're also convinced that they know just the trick,” Frank continues stepping close until he's standing right in front of Gerard, looking up and flicking his lip ring with his tongue quickly, just a little flash of pink that makes arousal flare up in the pit of his stomach.

            “And what's that?” his voice comes out raspier than he means it too, the thick sound of need clogging it as Frank moves in until their chests are almost touching. Gerard can practically feel the heat emanating off of Frank's body invitingly.

            One side of Frank's mouth quirks up, “me.” and his lips meet Gerard's softly, a whisper that makes Gerard want all that he's allowed to take. Frank kisses Gerard again, firmer, and a third and fourth time before Gerard leans forward and meets Franks lips bringing a hand up to the hair curling around the nape of Frank's neck. Frank makes a throaty noise of approval and bunches up Gerard's shirt in a fist at his chest, kissing Gerard with all he's got. Frank's lips part and Gerard takes it as an invitation, slipping his tongue past them and into his warm mouth. He tastes like cigarettes and curls his tongue around Gerard's expertly, making Gerard moan involuntarily. He doesn't even notice how hard he's gotten until Frank grinds against his crotch with his thigh. “Fuck,” Gerard groans into Frank's mouth.

            “Fuck _yes_ ,” Frank corrects him, pulling his lips off Gerard's with an obscene, wet noise. Gerard kisses him hungrily again, wrapping his hands around his lithe waist and spinning them around so Frank's against the brick walls. Frank moans loudly as pins him there and sucks on his neck, not even believing his own daring—but Frank is fucking hot, like he'd say no to him.“Okay, you're coming to my place, like, right fucking now.” Frank pants out shoving Gerard off and dragging him back inside much like Gabe had done when he brought him out here. Gerard realizes, as Frank weaves through the guys in the club, expertly ignoring the catcalls directed at him, that Gabe was totally in on Pete and Mikey's plan. So, that's fucking why he made Gerard smoke out back—not that Gerard really has the right to complain about anything right now. When they burst out the front doors, it's a little chilly and Gerard wonders how he didn't notice when he was smoking out back.

            “Wait,” Gerard says as Frank starts walking down the sidewalk, still holding Gerard's wrist, “you're seriously taking me back to your place right now?”

            Frank looks back at Gerard, “um, hell yes, man.”

            “Oh my god,” Gerard's eyes widen and Frank stops walking and turns around to stare at Gerard apprehensively. “My little brother and his boyfriend paid someone to sleep with me, holy shit, what is my life?” Gerard's mind curls in on itself in a self-protective, embarrassed way.

            Gerard doesn't expect Frank to snort, but he does, “no, _god no_ , man,” Frank protests, pulling Gerard closer to him, “I'm a _stripper_ , Gerard, not a prostitute. Look, I don't accept money to have sex with people. I've heard a fuck-ton about you, and I asked when I could meet you. They said you'd never agree to go out and meet somebody out of the blue because you preferred to stay in the house and draw. They also said you needed to get laid and gave me one of those looks,” Gerard laughs a little because he knows those looks, those plotting looks. “They said they would bring you by the club to meet me and, uh, ta-da, we've met. Now I'm inviting you back to my place—no money involved whatsoever. Now, are you gonna come back to mine so we can fuck, or do I have to convince you?” Frank stretches up to pull Gerard's lips down to his and kisses him hard and sloppy, biting Gerard's lip and stroking his collarbone.

            Gerard shakes his head, “no convincing needed.”

            Frank grins, “excellent,” and leans into Gerard's neck, nipping carefully, “because I might end up blowing you right here if we don't get a move on.” Gerard's brain short circuits because _hot, Frank, blowjob, fuck,_ but Frank's already leading him further down the sidewalk by the hand and, thank fuck, his apartment building is so close. Frank pulls Gerard into the building and Gerard follows him willingly up the stairs to the third floor. They stop in front of a door marked “304” and Gerard watches over his shoulder, face practically in his hair, as Frank fumbles to get the door open quickly.

            Gerard wants to spare a moment to look around Frank's apartment but abandons the idea in favour of pinning Frank to the back of the door and going in for a forceful kiss, sucking Frank's tongue into his mouth and making Frank moan again. Frank grinds the heel of his palm into Gerard's crotch, making his hips buck and he lets a groan slip from his mouth. “Bed,” Frank whispers into his mouth and pushes him further into the apartment. It's a bachelor apartment, no bedroom just an open space for a living room and a bed. Frank kisses Gerard insistently all the way to the bed, breath hot and wet, tongues sliding over each other's, fingers tugging hair gently, or not so gently. Frank shoves Gerard onto the bed, and he falls onto the messy sheets willingly, the streetlights coming in through the balcony door lighting up the apartment just enough to allow Gerard to see Frank taking off his hoodie from where he's sitting on the bed. “Frank,” Gerard says, his voice needy, even to his own ears.

            Frank shushes him, letting his sweater drop to the floor and exposing the tattoos curling up his left arm. He reaches for the hem of his shirt, fixing Gerard with a heavy stare and letting his jaw fall slack as he pulls it over his head. There are tattoos on each of Frank's hips that Gerard can't make out from here and he wants to touch them—to taste them. Frank reaches for his jeans button, pausing, “do you want to see?” Frank breathes out walking closer to the end of the bed where Gerard is seated.

            “Fuck, _yes_ ,” Gerard gets out in a pant, his dick straining against his own zipper. Frank smiles lightly and pops the button. He drags his zipper down and swaying his hips slowly, tantalizingly, as he pulls his jeans down. Gerard can see Frank's boner pushing up from under his black boxer briefs and Frank gets his jeans off, taking his shoes and socks off simultaneously. He stands between Gerard's legs and pushes his leather jacket off of his shoulders, throwing it off to the side. Gerard tugs Frank's face down to kiss him messily, and suddenly everything's more frantic. Frank tugs Gerard's shirt up and off in seconds.

            “Move up on the bed, Gerard, come on.” Frank whines. Gerard scrambles back, settling back on the pillow and watching Frank as he kneels between his legs. He opens Gerard's jeans, and Gerard lifts his hips off the bed slightly to help Frank pull them off. When he does, Frank pins Gerard again with a look of want and leans down so close to Gerard's dick that he can feel his breath ghosting over the tip through his boxers. Gerard's breath hitches and he does a damn good job of keeping his hips on the bed, considering how much he wants to force Frank to take his dick in his mouth. All of these thoughts leave as Frank drags his tongue along the fabric over Gerard's cock slowly and he moans softly, closing his eyes. Frank licks one of Gerard's hipbones as he hooks his fingers under the waist band of Gerard's boxers and drags them down and over his erection, tossing them onto the floor.

            With barely a pause in between, Frank is mouthing at the shaft of Gerard's dick and licking a strip all the way up the underside, “holy shit, Frank,” Gerard moans as Frank closes his mouth around the tip and flicks his tongue against the slit, precome mingling with his saliva. Gerard's hand automatically goes to Frank's hair and he tries not to hold onto it too tightly as he pants at the ceiling, feeling Frank go down as far as he can. He's making soft moaning noises in the back of his throat as he takes Gerard further into his mouth and sucks as hard as he can. “Jesus fuck—” he can feel Frank's throat constricting around the head of his dick. Gerard looks down to see Frank with his eyes closed as he pulls off to lap at the head, little beads of precome glistening in his wake. His back is curved with his ass up in the air and he's reaching back to palm himself through his underwear as he sucks Gerard. Fuck, if it isn't the hottest thing Gerard's ever seen. Frank's eyes open to meet Gerard's and he pulls off with a wet noise, his lips shiny and raw.

            He crawls up and straddles Gerard's lap to kiss him again, the mingling of their tongues is immediate and Gerard can taste the salty, bitterness of himself in Frank's mouth, which shouldn't be as hot as it is. Frank starts grinding against Gerard's crotch and he can feel Frank's hard dick against his through Frank's boxer briefs. They moan in unison as they build up a rhythm, panting into each other's mouths and occasionally getting a kiss worked in. Frank peppers kisses along Gerard's jaw with each grind downwards, making his way to his ear. Gerard squeezes Frank's waist, shoving his hips up to meet Frank's. Their desperate noises fill the quiet room as Frank nips Gerard's ear, “do you wanna fuck me?” Frank murmurs into his ear.

            “ _Fuck_ ,” is all Gerard can manage as he nods slowly, the feeling of Frank's dick against his making him moan obscenely.

            “Tell me,” Frank whispers, whimpering on the next grind, a high-pitched needy sound that fills Gerard's ears, making him feral.

            “I wanna fuck you, Frankie,” Gerard growls in return, making Frank moan into his ear. Frank reaches into his nightstand drawer and sets a bottle of lube down on Gerard's chest with a devious little smile. Frank reaches back with his face on Gerard's chest to pull off his boxer briefs. Gerard flips them over and he hears Frank gasp in shock as he stares up at Gerard. Gerard reaches down to wrap a hand around Frank's hard dick, that's already leaking when he feels it twitch in his hand. Frank moans while he looks up at Gerard, his lips open as little outbursts of breath go past them and he looks exactly like he did on stage while he ground up against the pole. Gerard pops open the cap of the lube, squirting some onto his finger and spreading it over the digit. “Fuck, you're so hot,” and Gerard thinks that Frank _knows_ how hot he is

            Gerard looks at Frank again as he touches his entrance rubbing the pad of his finger against it and spreading around some lube there, “Oh _yeah._ Gerard, come _on_ —fuck.” Gerard slides in the first finger, it goes in easy and he can feel Frank relaxing a little bit. He pushes it in and out, fucking Frank with his finger until he thinks it's okay to put in a second. By the time Frank's moaning and clenching his ass against the two fingers, the third one slides in smoothly along the others. “ _Uhn_ , Gerard, fucking—I'm ready, _please_ ,” Frank pushes against Gerard's fingers, trying to get them to go deeper and hit his prostate.

            Gerard can't fucking believe he almost didn't leave the house tonight. Thank god for Pete and his meddling ways. “Please what, Frank?” Gerard asks, shoving his fingers in a little harder and a delayed moan rips its way out of Frank's mouth that lets him know that he's reached his prostate.

            “Fuck me, Gerard—please _fuck_ ,” Frank begs; groans and whimpers leaking from his pretty mouth as he gives Gerard a condom. Gerard opens the foil with his teeth and rolls it onto his aching cock, hissing at the feeling of the lube over it as he slicks himself up. He presses Frank's leg into his chest leaving him spread out and exposed, watching his pink hole contract around the empty space, waiting to be filled up. “ _Gerard_ , what the fuck, just fucking fuck me, _please_ ,” Frank whimpers at him and, well, there's only so much one guy can take.

            He guides his cock to Frank's entrance, pressing the tip against it until it slowly slides in. Fuck, Gerard's never felt anything like it. Mind, he hasn't been laid many times and the times that he has, he was usually the bottom. But Frank so obviously wants it; he's panting and arching his back, begging Gerard to keep going. Gerard pushes in slowly, moaning as Frank's heat surrounds his dick, “holy shit, Frank, you're so fucking tight.” Gerard grits out, forcing himself to wait until Frank's adjusted.

            “Damn... right...” Frank gets out in between pants, “go, Gerard, I'm good.” Gerard pulls out and sinks right back in, groaning at the relief he feels now that his dick's getting some attention. Frank's eyes are closed tightly and his mouth hanging open. Gerard starts with shallow thrusts, working up a rhythm, the same way as when they were grinding against each other before. Each thrust elicits a moan from both guys as the rhythm gets bolder. Frank's fingers dig into Gerard's back as he pulls him down into a kiss, that is more teeth than anything, as they moan into each other's mouth desperately.

            Frank's legs wrap around Gerard's waist pulling him in harder and deeper. “Holy shit, Frankie, you feel so good, so fucking good.”

            “Deeper, Gerard—fuck,” Frank moans, “ _harder._ ” Gerard fucks into Frank as hard as he dares, feeling it when Frank clenches around his dick, making him groan in his neck. “Oh, _fuck_ , Gerard! _There_ , right fucking there.”

            “Yeah?” Gerard keeps the angle, pounding into Frank as he feels his fingers nails scratch against his back and he hopes he'll have marks. He sucks on Frank's neck, biting hard on the next thrust.

            “ _Uhn_ , Gerard, touch me, _please_ , I'm gonna come,” Frank begs on the edge of a whine. Gerard lifts his head to look at Frank and brings a hand down to wrap it around Frank's leaking cock. Gerard knows he's just as close as Frank is and keeps fucking him hard and fast. Gerard keeps the timing of his hand on Frank's cock to match his thrust. “Gerard, I'm so close,” Frank's breath hitches and he opens his eyes.

            “Me too, fuck, Frankie,” Gerard holds Frank's gaze each thrust forward hitting Frank's prostate and making him moan, on the edge of sobs.

            “Gerard I—“ Frank cries out, his back arching beautifully as he tosses his head back and comes all over Gerard's fingers. Gerard thrusts in once, twice and on the third time he follows Frank over the edge, reaching his climax and filling up the condom inside Frank. They ride the aftershocks with Gerard's tiny half-thrusts, until they still and are both panting, fucked out messes. Gerard's head thumps onto Frank's chest as he slides out of him, he hears Frank make a thin noise of discomfort. He gets the condom off and ties it, not really knowing where to put it but decides he'll deal with it after as he drops it on the floor. He lays on his back beside Frank, who's trying to catch his breath with his legs still spread, his hole shiny with lube and used and—Jesus Christ . Frank sighs contentedly, his lips curling into a lazy smile as he looks at Gerard.

            Gerard has a moment to feel like a fish out of water before he smiles back uncertainly. He doesn't really know what he's supposed to do now.

            Frank holds his stare, “I would tell you to stay,” Frank says softly, turning over and resting his chin on Gerard's shoulder, “but I guess it's really up to you, isn't it?”

            Gerard reaches up to play with a curl of Frank's hair, “I can stay,” he decides. Franks smile is full and happy as he pulls the covers over both of them, burrowing himself against Gerard's body. Frank strokes Gerard's collarbone with his thumb and the motion, accompanied by Frank's steady breathing, lulls Gerard to sleep in no time.

* * *

There's a dull gray light fighting its way into Gerard dream that he's a great Elven warrior slaying a hoard of orcs. The scene of bloody disarray and victory flickers like a faulty movie, gradually fading off amongst the gray. There's no sword in his hand anymore, in fact, there's nothing in his hand at all and he's sleeping at a very odd angle. Sense comes after the last bits of his dream world have fled from his mind and he realizes that if he was in his basement bedroom the light, that's shining in his face, wouldn't be as bright. Pale yellow sunlight streaks through a large window that Gerard thinks, fleetingly, would be amazing for drawing in. His arm is draped over something—a something that, Gerard quickly realizes, is Frank's waist. In fact, his whole body seems to be fitted along the back of Frank's small one and Gerard wonders if he should subtly move away before Frank wakes up. Deciding that if Frank wakes up and decides to move away then that's just fine, he stays where he is. Besides, he never thought being a big spoon would be so pleasant, but he can feel Frank's steady rise and fall of breath against his chest and arm and stomach and pleasant doesn't even begin to describe it. Having fallen asleep in a post-orgasm glow, it's the best sleep Gerard's had in a very long time.

            He must have dozed off for a moment because when he opens his eyes again he can feel Frank stir against him slightly. Gerard closes his eyes again, pretending to be asleep, and he can hear Frank make a tiny snuffling noise that must mean he's on the verge of waking up. Gerard wants to tighten his arm against Frank to keep him in place; he's too cozy to get up yet, but refrains because that would be a little weird, wouldn't it? Surprisingly, Frank doesn't make any move to get out of bed once Gerard's sure he's actually awake, if the loud yawn and gentle stretch is anything to go by. Frank shuffles around carefully and Gerard is having trouble keeping his eyes closed so it looks natural, like when you're a kid and you try to pretend to be asleep but your eyelids keep twitching. Gerard cracks open an eye and Frank is gazing at him, the soft light from the balcony window creating a halo around his dark hair. Gerard lets his eyes flutter open completely to stare back at Frank. Frank's mouth turns up in one corner into a sleepy, half-lidded smile, “hi.” he murmurs, looking completely at ease.

            “Hi,” Gerard returns, not at ease at all, but he does his best to appear to be.

            He doesn't expect Frank to reach up and ruffle his hair, but he does. It's oddly familiar gesture and Gerard feels his chest swell as Frank places a chaste kiss on his lips. Frank gently gets out of bed, letting Gerard's arm flop onto the mattress. Gerard watches Frank apprehensively, waiting for him to tell him that he should leave. Frank pulls on his boxers, turning to look at Gerard finally, “there are towels in the bathroom. I'll let you shower and finish freaking out while I make coffee,” Frank smirks, but not unkindly—maybe even a little fond. “Mikey said you like that horrible powdered cream and sugar. I have soy milk and organic sugar, so that should sate you?” Gerard nods dumbly and Frank grins, flashing his teeth and bouncing off to the kitchen.

            Gerard wants to curl up in Franks suspiciously comfortable bed and just die, he feels so fucking embarrassed about losing his shit in front of Frank last night. He'll blame his horrible self-restraint (or lack thereof) and Franks obviously gorgeous face and body. So, again, he thinks of sinking into the mattress and never emerging but . . . _coffee_.

            His mouth tastes like something died in there (typical Gerard morning breath) and his hair feels greasy to the point of unbearable (which doesn't happen often—besides he showered last night—but being in Franks bed is making Gerard feel spectacularly unattractive). He can hear Frank rummaging around in the kitchen, the clink of mugs and the water running, and—with a melodramatic sigh—he decides to take up Franks offer to shower, ambling gracelessly in the direction of the bathroom door. He doesn't glance at Frank and he kind of wishes Frank didn't live in a bachelor apartment because he'd like to keep his new-born deer walking skills to himself but it seems Frank is busy humming a song, that Gerard vaguely recognizes, as he looks through the fridge. When he's finally able to shut himself in the bathroom he goes straight for the shower. Franks shampoo is some expensive salon brand that smells faintly of something flowery. The smell is not at all unpleasant and his muscles relax every passing moment under the hot jet of water.

            When he finally coaxes himself to get out of the shower, he tiptoes around the bed, pulling on the articles of clothing that are his—the ones he can find anyways. He seems to be missing a sock and his Black Flag shirt. Frank turns around while Gerard is still searching and he smiles softly at the older man. “Shirt?” Gerard wonders.

            “Sure,” Frank crosses the apartment and digs through a drawer, emerging with an over-sized black t-shirt with an abstract logo that Gerard doesn't recognize and he wonders why Frank would need a shirt this big as he pulls it on and it's almost loose over his own thick frame. Frank's still smiling a little and Gerard thinks that he didn't pay enough attention to that lip ring last night. He sits in one of the stools by the kitchen island, cluttered with a couple comic books Gerard already owns and CD's beside the CD player plugged into the side of the island. Gerard spots Famous Creatures among the pile and almost fucking _swoons—_ how the fuck can one guy be so perfect?

            Frank passes Gerard the coffee (seriously, _perfect_ ) and Gerard takes a reverent sip, “ _fuck_.” he sighs happily. Frank giggles, and he _still_ can't get over that ridiculously cute little noise. “Your coffee is amazing.” Gerard praises, taking another drink that's even better than the first.

            Frank grins, “Mikey told me that coffee is the way into your heart, so,” he bats his eyelashes at Gerard, who promptly chokes on his next breath. Frank bursts out laughing, doubling over and clutching his stomach. He doesn't know what possesses him to do it but he puts his coffee down, getting up and crowding into Frank's space, who abruptly stops laughing in favour of looking up at Gerard with big hopeful eyes and chewing on his lip ring again. Gerard leans down to capture Frank's mouth in a careful kiss, deepening it and tugging on Frank's piercing his teeth like he's been wanting to as Frank makes a little noise in the back of his throat.

            When they finally pull apart, Frank tells him in a breathless voice, “Mikey called while you were in the shower. Something about having lunch with him and Pete and to be there by two.”

            “Oh yeah,” Gerard recalls, kissing Frank again. “Is this a bad time to ask you out?”

            “Nope,” one side of Frank's mouth twitches upwards, “now's a perfect time.”

            Gerard swallows his uncertainty, “would you like to have lunch with me, my little brother and his annoying boyfriend?”

            Frank tugs Gerard back down for another gentle kiss and smiles against his lips, “I thought you'd never ask.”


End file.
